Out of the Closet, Into Your Arms
by Nick-the-Evil
Summary: What is straight?  A line can be straight, or a street, but the human heart, oh, no, it's curved like a road through mountains." In a world where queerness is relatively normal, there lived a boy who fell in love... with Draco Malfoy. (HarryDraco)
1. Confessions of an Innocent Schoolboy

**Out of the Closet, and Into Your Arms**

Rating: R - RR (a rating I made up for hard R'. Cool huh?)  
  
**Author: **NicktheEvil  
  
**Pairing:** Draco/Harry  
  
**Summary: **"What is straight? A line can be straight, or a street, but the human heart, oh, no, it's curved like a road through mountains." In a world where queerness is relatively normal, and in a school where sex is a topic of great conversation, there lived a boy who fell in love... with Draco Malfoy.  
  
**Disclaimer:** I doubt anyone here would believe me if I said that I owned Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. So let's not even go through this.

* * *

**Chapter One  
**Confessions of an Innocent Schoolboy

  
&&&&

**_Puddlemere United Keeper Devastatingly Ends Career_**  
  
_Oliver Wood, age 21, winner of Witch Weekly's Most Good-Looking Sportshunk' Award, and right arm of Britain's great Quidditch team (undefeated for four consecutive years) has received an official ban from further Quidditch licenses from the Ministry's Magical Games and Sports panel. This citation was proclaimed at yesterday's court meeting with Ministry officials, members of the Quidditch representative board, and the Minister himself.  
  
Wood was present at the court, where his hearing took place earlier that afternoon and according to inside sources, miraculously avoided all other charges; those including a lifelong prohibition from Quidditch and a seven hundred galleon fine in compensation for the gruesome injuries inflicted upon the Chaser of the Falmouth Falcons, Marcus Agustus Flint.  
  
Flint, currently rehabilitating at St. Mungo's, was furious when he heard of Wood's unjust sentence, healer Rosemary Snowdrop contributed when interviewed.  
  
Completely inconsiderate of the Minister, I tell you, to come barging into the ward so late at night to inform Marcus of the disappointment. she said. Poor Marcus who's still got his bones a-mending, nearly rebroke them again in his anger! And who could blame him?  
  
Snowdrop, a huge supporter of the Falmouth Falcons also said that Wood deserves what he got and that she hopes to see him cowering in the shadows from humiliation for the rest of his life.  
  
Wood's plans as of now are unfortunately indistinct but there is no doubt that he will presumably continue a career in league with Quidditch.  
  
Hopefully he has learned a lesson to not attack members of the opposing team as result of verbal abuses thrown his way, unless he wants to face definite charges and possible imprisonment in Azkaban in the future.  
  
(Elberta Skeeter, Daily Prophet Reporter).  
  
_Harry stared disbelievingly at the stiff sheets of paper in his hands, his mouth agape and his eyebrows bent in fury.  
  
In his head, he was almost sure, and definitely wished he was sure, that what he'd just read was a joke; perhaps he'd picked up a copy of _The Quibbler_, mistaking it for the Daily Prophet. Barely controlling his franticness, he flipped back the pages preceding the absurd story, accidentally ripping out a few, and raked the front page until his eyes came upon the unmistakable Old English lettering and flourished name of the British newspaper.  
  
This is just.... this has got to bullshit! he exclaimed loudly, returning to the page where a picture of a wild-eyed Oliver was yelling soundlessly and flailing his arms in protest as ministry members tried to lead him off the Quidditch pitch.  
  
Hermione, who had also buried her nose in a copy of the _Daily Prophet, _abruptly looked up at the sound of Harry's voice with pursed lips and flared nostrils.  
  
I know! This is just ridiculous! she said, waving the paper in her clenched fist.  
  
How can they- I mean Flint probably provoked him-  
  
I had no idea that she had a blood-relative working for the press-  
  
They both simultaneously paused and frowned at each other before quickly glancing back at their own copies of the paper.  
  
Harry turned back to look at Hermione and opened his mouth uncertainly.  
  
What are you talking about?  
  
Hermione, looking surprised, scoffed and rolled her eyes.  
  
What do you _think_ I'm talking about? I mean, isn't that what you're talking about too?  
  
  
  
What _were_ you talking about?  
  
I was talking about Oliver-  
  
Hermione raised her eyebrows. Oliver? Oliver who?  
  
Oliver Wood of course! Who else? Ron spoke up through a mouthful of egg and ham from the other side of Harry. Didn't you read the bloody story?  
  
said Hermione shrugging. She then jabbed her finger violently at a particular article on the front page. But THIS. Take a look at _that._  
  
Harry and Ron followed Hermione's finger and read the small letters printed in italics at the end of the long article.  
  
Ron asked doubtfully. But I thought you forced her to resign from the Daily Prophet?  
  
Yes, but this is a _different_ Skeeter. Hermione said exasperatedly. Didn't you read the first name? _Elberta_ Skeeter. I had no idea that she had a blood relative involved with the ministry! That fraud of a woman!  
  
Harry heaved an impatient sigh.   
  
So? So? she spluttered. Rita could be working with this Elberta to get her nasty works published! She'd do anything to regain her position as writer!  
  
Ron spooned another mountainous mouthful of egg and glared at her.  
  
Who bloody cares about _her? _Wood's having a life crisis for crying out loud!  
  
  
  
Just read that. Harry shoved his now crumpled copy onto her own and sniffing irritably, she reluctantly let her eyes graze briefly over the photo before continuing onto the story.  
  
Harry watched half pleased as he saw her cool expression turning slowly into a frown, which then turned into a shocked look. But he soon realized that he'd mistaken the reason for her reborn fury.  
  
There! She's written this one too!  
  
Ron said, wrinkling his nose.  
  
Elberta Skeeter! This story is written by her too!  
  
Ron groaned through gritted teeth. You're hopeless Mione.  
  
How can they kick Oliver off the team though? Harry cut in before Hermione could retort. He's the best player Puddlemere has seen in decades!  
  
Decades? He's the reason Puddlemere's been able to remain undefeated for four years! Ron roared heatedly, his face turning red. Trust Flint to ruin things for him!  
  
Oh you two are so immature! Hermione snorted, getting up from her seat with her nose in the air. She gathered up her books and shoved them into her bookbag. I'm going to go to the Library.  
  
Neither Ron or Harry had a chance to reply because at that moment, Seamus and Dean leaned over the table with mysterious grins on their faces and odd gleams in their eyes.  
  
So you guys haven't heard yet? Dean inquired, glancing sideways at Seamus and then at Ron and Harry.  
  
Heard of what?  
  
Seamus winked and then raised his hands in mock confusion.  
  
No idea. Guess we'll just have to find out ay?  
  
Find out about what?  
  
About what we're talking about. said Dean smiling good-naturedly. You'll figure it out by tomorrow at the latest.  
  
Ron's eyes were narrowed suspiciously and he scratched his head thoughtfully.  
  
What's tomorrow? He turned to Harry and nudged him on the arm. Harry, what's tomorrow?  
  
Harry shot him an incredulous look and shook his head.  
  
How should I know?  
  
Suddenly, Seamus sat up straighter and snapped his fingers enthusiastically as if an idea had popped into his head. His mouth twisted into a wide smile and another sly look was exchanged between him and Dean. This highly annoyed Ron and Harry even more.  
  
By the way, you two coming to the party Saturday night?  
  
Harry's expression cleared slightly at the mention of the party. He'd been wanting to ask about the party ever since he'd heard about it from his fellow classmates, yet no one had bothered to explain to him what the point of the party was, exactly.  
  
What's it for? he asked slowly, studying Dean and Seamus' faces carefully so as not to miss any other looks that might help clue him in to what the hell was going on. Is like a special occasion or something?  
  
He was a bit surprised when this time, his best friend let out a snicker and vainly attempted to suppress it a moment too late by coughing and gulping down his remaining goblet of pumpkin juice.  
  
Harry brandished his fork at the three other Gryffindors, feeling slightly hurt and left out.  
  
Am I the only one that doesn't know about anything that goes on around here? he demanded indignantly.  
  
It's nothing really. Ron shrugged. Just a friendly party between friends you know.  
  
Yeah, it's traditional- happens every year to all 17 year olds. added Dean with an agreeable nod.  
  
More like a little get-together instead of a party. Like, there's no music and dancing and stuff but we've got the drinks, the people, the talk- it's all good. Seamus sighed happily. I've been looking forward to this for years.  
  
But how is that special? Harry pressed bewilderedly. I mean, we've had those kinds of parties tons of times during the year before.  
  
Dean clucked and waggled his finger in front of Harry's face.  
  
It's not just any ol' occasion though. Like I said, it only happens once in your life, and that once in your life... well it sorta changes your future too.  
  
Harry frowned and knitted his brows in lack of understanding. Were they going to be doing something stupid like a becoming-of-age-initiation-ceremony'? Would they have to jump into the freezing cold lake with the Giant Squid to prove their maturity? Or.....  
  
Who's going?  
  
Just the men. Seamus said a bit quickly. No girls.  
  
A sigh of relief escaped Harry and he let out a indistinct chuckle. His fear of it turning out to be an orgy was erased. If it had turned out to be one.... well he might have run out of the room in fear. Who was to find out that he was.... that Harry Potter was indeed a virgin? No one. Absolutely no one. He was well aware that every guy he knew that went to Hogwarts and who was a seventh year, had long since thrown their virginity out of the window somewhere during their fifth and sixth years. Of course it wasn't like a criteria they were expected to fulfill or anything, and no one was obliged to reveal their partner's name, but you could tell easily when someone you knew had been deflowered. They acted different, they looked different, their eyes shone different... At least that was what Harry had observed in his past year at school.  
  
He was still left in the dust about Ron's sexual status but he supposed that Ron was a step ahead of him in that department anyway. He seemed to be much more comfortable with the females than Harry. Ever since the awkward happening with Cho Chang, his former crush, he'd grown to avoid the giggling girls as much as he could. It was incredibly difficult as he had a whole fan club of swooning girls trailing after him everywhere he went each day; some doing the most bizarre things that drove Harry completely up the wall, like attempting to take pictures of him while he showered after practice, or snipping pieces of his school robes so that they could tape them into their diaries, or getting him to pick up their pens and pencils so that his fingerprints would be left on them.  
  
Some would think that he would feel in the least, flattered by all this popularity, but on the contrary, he couldn't help but find it completely and utterly perturbing and annoying. He never used to have this kind of problem before, during the better half of his years at Hogwarts, but ever since he'd defeated Voldemort in his sixth year, and ever since his scrawny and knobbly structure had filled out into muscle and taut tones, well, it was definitely different.  
  
_Damn Quidditch._ He'd thought countless of times. But it wasn't like he could abandon the fuel of his life just because he disliked all the attention he was receiving from the outcome of five days a week of hard, sweaty, and ambition driven training sessions.  
  
Speaking of which...  
  
Tomorrow's our next practice, isn't it? Harry mused outloud, to no one in particular.  
  
Ron said, grinning from ear to ear. And my second year as team captain. We're gonna whoop some major arse!  
  
Without a doubt Captain Ron! Seamus said, saluting Ron with an exaggerated jerk of his hand. You've got the best Chaser at your service!  
  
And beater! Dean chirped.  
  
Harry smiled and thumped Ron cheerfully on the back.  
  
We'll definitely win the House Cup this year. Slytherin won't stand a chance.  
  
The previous year, they'd been neck-and-neck with the conniving snakes for most of the year, but one failed pass and one missed goal block had dropped them to second place and given the Slytherin's the House Cup. Ron had remained depressed for a good few weeks after the final game, but all the team members had worked their butts off (even more than in their practices) to try and cheer him up by telling him that next year, things would be much better because Ron would then be an experienced team Captain. Then during the summer, the team (well, mostly Harry) had pitched in money to buy enough tickets for each of the seven players to go and see a Chudley Cannon's game. The Cannons had played The Ballycastle Bats and The Bats, being a nationally inconsistent team which ranked twelfth among the thirteen national teams, lost spectacularly to the The Cannons.  
  
Ron had claimed that he was forever inspired by the brilliant game and announced that during his final year as Gryffindor Team Captain, he would train and coach like no other Captain had ever coached their team players and would victoriously win the House Cup by a large stride.  
  
Harry had secretly been a tad bit worried about the long hours of training they'd do, stacked upon the piles and piles of homework they would be receiving in classes as it was N.E.W.T.s year for them, but so far, with the help of Hermione and the loss of an average of four hours of sleep each night, he'd been able to complete the work in time.  
  
Now, the end of October was nearing and the first match against Ravenclaw was drawing closer. None of the Gryffindors were very worried about the game, since the only team that was really much competition was Slytherin, and they wouldn't have to play _them_ until December. They still had plenty of time to train for that big match.  
  
Well, we're gonna head to class, but we'll catch you guys later, Seamus grinned, pushing himself off of the long bench and gathering up his bag. We've got Divination and it's waaaay across the school-  
  
What do you two have? Dean asked, getting up and stretching out his arms and legs.  
  
Harry frowned distastefully.  
  
  
  
Ron's mouth twitched.  
  
I've got Defense Against the Dark Arts.  
  
Seamus cooed sarcastically. Let me guess, you got it in for the new teacher?  
  
Ron blushed and shook his head hastily.  
  
Bloody hell no! She's a bird all right but...  
  
You're interested in someone else. Dean finished wisely for him.  
  
Ron's face turned even more crimson and he swallowed.  
Sort of... I guess.  
  
You know, Seamus said speculatively, tapping his chin. I don't see the point of Ron coming to the party anymore do you Dean? I mean, he's obviously smitten with-  
  
Zip it. Ron growled furiously. You're not supposed to tell about the party to those that don't know.  
  
Harry smiled dryly.  
  
Thanks Ron, I'm right here you know.  
  
Ron shrugged apologetically.  
  
It's the rules mate. And plus, you'll have more fun that way, honestly.  
  
Harry grunted and tried not to look disbelieving even though he was feeling considerably skeptic about the whole party now. It didn't sound to appealing, whatever it was.  
  
We'll see you guys. Dean said, waving his hand.  
  
Yeah, see you. Harry replied. Guess we should head off too. he said with a sigh.  
  
Yeah, reckon so. Ron said. They both pushed away their empty plates and goblets and heaved their heavy bookbags onto the table before unstraddling the bench and getting up.  
  
Normally, the day would start off with double something or other with one of the houses, but _today_, things were going to be a little different. And the fact that he no longer would be attending the same classes as his best friends was something that he definitely wasn't used to.  
  
It all had to do with the coming N.E.W.T. s. Seventh years were expected to take all and only the classes that were required within their field of studies according to what job they wanted to pursue after graduation. All those classes corresponding to each job, would be divided among the whole student body of seventh years and unlike in years past, the four houses would be studying together. Harry's field, or the _Auror's Field_, he knew would only consist of very very few students. Ron's field, or the _Ministry of Magic Field 4_, would consist of more than two fifths of the students. Almost everyone wanted to do some kind of work in the Ministry and it wasn't a wonder as the pay was exceptionally good and the rank very high.  
  
Hermione's Field, or the _Teaching Field_ would have a fair few of the percentage as well.  
  
Harry had already been aware of the classes he would need to be taking that year in order to pass the tests to become an Auror. There were some that he felt okay with like, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Advanced Charms, and Transfiguration; but then there were the ones that he'd cringed at just to think he'd have to endure them for another whole year, and the fact that this year, the teachers would be more demanding and severe did not help his conscience at all. Those classes were Divination, Muggle Studies, and Potions.  
  
Potions. Snape. The ugly greasy git that he loathed ever since first year. Could things get any worse? He seriously hoped not.  
  
And Muggle Studies? He hardly needed that as he lived with the worst muggles that ever existed in the entire world. Who could be more muggleish than the Dursley's? They were an excellent example, in Harry's opinion.  
  
The only bit of satisfaction that he could feel grateful about was that the Auror classes would be considerably smaller, and that he wouldn't have to endure any of Malfoy for the entire year. He had a hunch that Malfoy would probably be in Ron's field, and he couldn't help but feel sorry for his red headed friend. If there was anyone who hated the ferret even more than Harry, it had to be Ron, and if matters took a turn in the unfortunate, and Malfoy had decided to become a member of the Ministry as well.... then Ron would be stuck with the jerk for nine whole months. NINE WHOLE MONTHS. And with neither Harry or Hermione to fend for him or hold him back.  
  
_How long will it be until they rip each other's guts out?_ Harry wondered in guilty amusement to himself. Of course, if Malfoy made any snide remarks about Ron's family or his wealth, then that would be the end of him, for he could remember quite clearly the day in Diagon Alley when Ron had claimed that he would NOT be taking any shit from Malfoy this year. And by meaning of not taking any shit, Ron meant a quick and very painful murder on his part. He'd also mentioned lots of punching, blood, and spilling intestines. Although that was _before_ Hermione had smacked him smartly across the face and said that if Ron attempted any of the things that he said he would do, than Hermione would indefinitely give him detention for a whole month.  
  
Yes, Hermione was Head Girl this year and because of this new duty it seemed, she was immensely intent on keeping things friendly between each of the houses. We must forget our differences and come together- she'd said countless of times over the summer. Now that the Darkness is gone, we shouldn't have to keep feuding with each other. It's ridiculous!  
  
But was it really necessary to make a truce with the trio's archenemy of six years? Was that even possible? And the fact that Malfoy was Head Boy unnerved him quite a bit, even though he would never admit that to anyone. He knew that with someone like _him_ for Head Boy, the Slytherin would not hesitate to dock every single point from the Gryffindors and would neither feel offense or guilt in the responsibility of giving detention to any and every student who adorned scarlet on their school robes.  
  
If only Harry had that power to bestow such punishment upon any student he wished, then Malfoy would be out of Hogwarts before he could even say fuck you'.  
  
So who else do you know who's gonna be in the Auror class? Ron's voice pulled him out of his reverie.  
  
Harry tilted his head. Dunno. Didn't ask anyone.  
  
There's loads of Ravenclaws in mine. Ron said grimacing. The know-it-alls.  
  
Harry laughed at the look on Ron's face. It was the same look he got each time Hermione tried to nag them into going to the Library with her.  
  
Wonder what Malfoy's gonna do after Hogwarts? Harry pondered. Obviously, there isn't a Death Eater' group so it's either something to do with the Ministry or-  
  
Maybe he'll join the Secret Service's group to try and learn the secrets so that he can pass them on to his good-for-nothing-rich-bastard of a dad. Ron spat coldly.  
  
Harry hesitated for a moment before glancing at Ron.  
  
He's... dead. Remember?  
  
Who is?  
  
Lucius Malfoy.  
  
Ron's eyes widened in immediate recollection.  
  
Oh, right. Forgot. he snorted. Deserved it if you ask me.  
  
Harry just nodded and didn't reply. No one. Absolutely no one, knew of the true happenings of the Final War that had led to Voldemort's defeat except Albus Dumbledore. Not even Ron or Hermione. No one knew how much of a painful ordeal it had been for Harry; that it'd taken more than a single curse to end the Darkness that had engraved itself deep into the dirt of the earth. No one knew of the numerous Unforgivable curses that he'd suffered, under the wands of the Death Eaters. No one knew that he'd killed more than just one being that night. No one knew that it was _he_, Harry that had killed Lucius Malfoy. Not even Draco Malfoy.  
  
He wondered what the younger Malfoy would do if he found out about the true identity of the murderer responsible for the death of his father. Would he kill Harry? Would he perform the killing curse on the spot regardless of all the teachers around them? Or would he sneak into the Gryffindor dormitories during the night and finish him off in secrecy?  
  
Harry shook his head and dismissed the idea.  
  
Malfoy didn't even know the password into the tower for merlin's sake. He returned his attention to Ron just as they approached the main staircase that wound both upwards toward the first floor and downwards toward the dungeons.  
  
Well good luck in Potions, mate. Ron said, clapping a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder. Don't let the old git get to you.  
  
Harry snorted and readjusted his loaded bookbag onto his aching shoulder. Good luck with DADA.  
  
See you.  
  
See you.  
  
Harry turned around and began descending the steep flight of stairs down to the lower floors, where each step brought a colder temperature and a dimmer light.  
  
He just hoped that what was ahead of him wouldn't be too hellish. But alas, if only wishes came true more often.

* * *

Woohoo! First chapter up! I'll work on getting the second chapter up ASAP. How do you like it so far? What do you think of the start? Any possibilities do you think of this becoming a good story? I've got great plans for this so don't be in doubt.  
Reviews would kick major arse too.  
  
And don't worry. This will become a fully fledged, very hot Draco/Harry slash story. I would have nothing else.  
  
-Nick (the evil)  
  
_  
  
_**  
**


	2. Confessions of a StuckUp Schoolboy

**Out of the Closet, Into Your Arms  
  
**Confessions of a Stuck-Up Schoolboy

**Rating: **RR  
  
**Author:** NicktheEvil  
  
**Disclaimer:  
****dis·claim·er  
**Pronunciation: -'klA-m&r  
Function: _noun  
_**1 a :**a denial or disavowal of legal claim relinquishment of or formal refusal to accept an interest or estate  
  
There. Happy?**

* * *

Chapter Two  
**Confessions of a Stuck-Up Schoolboy  
  
Draco sneered at the picture of Oliver Wood, which in his opinion, looked very pathetic and laughable. He didn't feel in the slightest, sorry for the fellow- as a matter of fact, he didn't even feel sorry for his former team Captain, Marcus Flint. Matters like these were simply meant for entertainment and nothing more.  
  
Almost everyone in the Great hall seemed to be holding a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ that morning, and the swarm of delivery owls that had flown in to drop off them off were still zooming over the heads of the students, snapping their beaks and hooting loudly so that their pay wouldn't be forgotten. Next to Draco, Pansy was howling with laughter and wiping tears from her eyes, making the photo of Wood glare up at her defiantly and shake his fists while the officials yanked unceremoniously at his loosened robes.  
  
Pansy took a few deep breaths and seemingly calmed down before turning to look at Draco somberly.  
  
Poor Marcus though, don't' you think? For all those broken ribs and bruises, he should have gotten more from Wood.  
  
Draco rolled his eyes and refolded his paper neatly into fourths, setting it down next to his plate of untouched bacon and egg.  
  
Like what? he asked unconcernedly.  
  
Like the seven hundred Galleons! exclaimed Pansy as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Seven hundred doesn't even seem like enough if you ask me. I wouldn't have settled for anything below a thousand.  
  
Blaise gave a derisive snort from his side of the table and shot Draco a knowing look.  
  
We feel your pain Panse. the dark skinned Slytherin drawled. Well at least that fucker's managed to shamelessly disgrace the whole of Britain huh?  
  
At that moment, a loud outburst from across the Hall sent owls flapping and screeching into the air, and a shower of feathers fluttered down into the goblets of juice and plates of food.  
  
This is just.... this has got to bullshit!  
  
Draco let his gaze lazily shift from Blaise's face to a particular one situated at the Gryffindor table, who's green eyes were wide and disbelieving (yes, Draco could see their shocking color clearly from a distance) and his mouth opening and closing like a incapable goldfish.  
  
_Oh yes. Golden Boy. No doubt he'll be devastated by the doom of his beloved old captain. _Draco smirked contemptuously. _Serves him right..._  
  
Draco continued watching Potter's every move, noting the angry flush in his cheeks and whitened knuckles which were curled dangerously around the creased paper as if he meant to tear it to shreds. He barely paid any attention to the other two people on either side of him, they were hardly interesting enough to waste his thought on.  
  
Draco's smirk faltered and he paused for a moment, retracing what had just gone on in his wandering mind.  
  
_Potter? Interesting? HA. _  
  
Why was he even looking at Potter in the first place? And more importantly, why was he observing the color of I'm-everbody's-hero-boy's knuckles? They were a disgusting paste color, the color of puce and elephant skin. He shuddered and tried to shove the image away in haste. He didn't want to have to sicken himself first thing in the morning.  
  
When he turned back to his more intimate surroundings, he caught Blaise still regarding him rather oddly with a contemplative frown on his face. Draco raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow at him and with a shrug, Blaise resumed to consuming his breakfast at a steady pace.  
  
So Draky-poo, are you looking forward to the party this Friday? Pansy asked in a sickeningly sweet voice.  
  
Draco said distractedly. _  
_  
The party. You _are_ going right?  
  
Blaise's fork stopped midway to his mouth and his eyes flickered back to Draco instantly, almost expectantly.  
  
Draco felt the heat rise up in his cheeks but tried his best to act suave and look completely unaffected.  
  
Of course I'm not going. he snapped. Why would I?  
  
Pansy said, twirling a strand of her curly blonde hair around her finger. And why wouldn't you?  
  
Draco glared at her threateningly and narrowed his eyes.  
  
Because there's no point in me going. Obviously. he added a forced emphasis on the last word.  
  
But Drake dear. Pansy simpered. You're so clearly-  
  
If you don't clamp that fucking mouth of yours shut Parkison, I swear to hell I will hex your lips off. he hissed. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a class to get to.  
  
Blaise stood up. What do you have first Dray?  
  
Draco, feeling rather pissed off, gave Blaise a don't talk to me now because you'll regret it' look. Does it matter?  
  
I was just wondering...  
  
Then save yourself the effort. he said shortly, and without a backward glance, he stormed out of the Great Hall leaving a pleased looking Pansy and a unsatisfied looking Blaise behind him.  
  
Fuming slightly, he didn't even attempt to quiet the echoes of his loud footsteps in the empty corridor.  
  
_Fuck that bitch._ He swore viciously while imagining how he'd love to yank that thick and annoying mop of crap from her scalp with his bare hands. _Why the hell would someone assume that I was.... that **I** was... I'm a Malfoy from fuck's sake! Malfoy's aren't... they don't.... _He let out a laugh at the very idea and shoved a group of terrified looking first years out of the way as he descended down a flight of stairs. _Just because this world's a fucked a place doesn't make me fucked up.  
  
_In his fury, he walked passed the door to his classroom and so had to make a sharp u-turn, but the momentum of his stride and the sudden change in direction made him twirl unsteadily on his heel like a ballerina and he bumped smack into something that was right behind him. Hard.  
  
With an embarrassing squeal that he failed to suppress, he grabbed onto the closest sturdy thing to his hands. The only problem was, he expected it to stay upright, and it didn't. Both him and the useless object tipped forward and he felt himself flying downwards face first.  
  
He clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut to brace himself for the solid stone floor but instead of the pain, his face was smothered by something very soft and scruffy.  
  
Not really taking in what had just happened, he lay there for a few seconds, exhaling a sigh of relief before the object underneath him shifted and a low noise that sounded mortifyingly like a pained moan vibrated into his ear.  
  
_What the hell?_ He thought before turning his head very hastily in the direction of the sound. He winced when his nose connected with something that felt oddly like....  
  
When he opened his eyes he was staring into a pair of orbs of the biggest and brightest color of green he'd ever seen. For a moment, he remained immobile, and to say the least, completely bewildered. _  
  
_Then, it all clicked into his mind and he realized that they were a pair of _eyes._ Very very very green eyes. Who the heck could have eyes as green as these? They were like the most exquisite jade gems his father used to wear on his rings...  
  
_Woah woah woah.... wait a fucking minute-  
  
_Do you mind getting off of me? an angry voice snarled. A familiar and loathsome angry voice.  
  
Draco blinked and his vision finally focused on the whole image of what was only inches away from his face.  
  
Green eyes. Insane raven hair. Pitiful gash on a smooth tanned forehead.  
  
_Harry Potter. Harry bloody Potter. Harry bloody fucking Potter._  
  
_Clumsy asshole!_  
  
Potter, what the hell? he nearly screamed, unwrapping his arms from the other's boy's torso and trying to pull himself away at the same time.  
  
Potter was frantically attempting to push Draco off of him too, and as a result, their legs became a confused tangle of robes and it rendered them incapable of standing up.  
  
Fucking stop moving, will you? Draco hissed, feeling as if he wanted to punch Potter for his pure stupidity.  
  
Why don't _you_? Potter spat back. Draco could see the muscles in Potter's neck tense with rage. What do you think you're doing crashing into people?  
  
Draco stopped struggling for a second and shot Potter the iciest glare he could muster.  
  
What was _I_ doing? Excuse me? If you hadn't been fucking standing in my way, I wouldn't have bumped into you!  
  
In the next blink of an eye, Draco felt a sudden frigidness seep into his skin and realized that Potter had finally managed to put the desperately needed distance between them. Potter was panting slightly and his cheeks were tinged red under his distasteful wire rimmed glasses. Both their school robes were considerably wrinkled and undone- something Draco could not stand in the least.  
  
He immediately leaped gracefully to his feet and began straightening and dusting off the silky black material with pursed lips. How he would love to hex Potter with something utterly painful.  
  
Too bad you just lost fifty points, Potter. he said cooly, regaining his composure.  
  
Potter roared. Fifty for _you_ bumping into me?  
  
I could dock more, so consider it an early Christmas present and be grateful.  
  
  
  
Draco tittered. Language Pothead. Of course, I don't blame you-I suppose you must be feeling emotional about good-for-nothing Wood?  
  
The veins in Potter's fists were visibly throbbing and for a mere second, Draco had the impression that Potter was going to attack him then and there. But the loss of points seemed to be holding him back.  
  
Well maybe you should head off to class _Ferret_. was Potter's lame reply. Draco snorted. Being Head Boy had it's advantages.  
  
Interesting, because that's what I was trying to do before you came along. he picked up his leather bookbag and with a flourished twirl of his robes, stepped through the doorway of the Potion's classroom.  
  
Uh- Malfoy? came Potter's sarcastic voice from behind him.  
  
Draco halted and turned his head.  
  
Wrong classroom perhaps?  
  
Draco frowned and cocked his head to the side, as if looking at someone who had major disabilities.  
  
Unlike you, I'm not insufferably thick headed and blind. he continued walking forward until he approached his usual desk in the back of the room. He could still feel Potter's gaze but he chose to ignore it.  
  
One by one, the other students began dwindling in, all with identical looks of apprehension on their faces.  
  
MacMillan, Boot, Bones, Corner. All half-witted and worthless muggle loving freaks. And then there was Potter. The worst of them all.  
  
During the next five minutes, no one else entered the room and all was quiet. It was hard to believe that only six people would be occupying the lesson throughout the whole year. Draco tried to brush away the feeling of self-consciousness of being the only Slytherin amongst the small group by telling himself that it hadn't been his idea in the first place. It had been Dumbledore's and Severus' proposition. The conniving jackasses. Whoever said that _he_ wanted to become a fucking Auror? Just because he'd been serving spyhood to the light side before the War, definitely didn't mean that he wanted to continue doing so for the rest of his life after graduation.  
  
At that moment, the sharp claps of the Professor's shoes caught everyone's attention and Draco looked up reluctantly. Severus's beetle black eyes met his own and he thought he saw a gleam of reassurance in their shadows.  
  
_Severus? Reassuring?_ Draco sent a smirk in his direction and Snape smirked back. He then pulled his wand out of his robes and strode slowly up the aisle.  
  
he said finally, spitting out the word nastily. You think you can become the next greatest Auror do you? Hm?  
  
No one moved.  
  
And what makes you think that any one of you have the knowledge and power to become one? You, MacMillan. What is your weapon?  
  
Draco watched gleefully as MacMillan sat up straight and cleared his throat.  
  
M-my weapon sir?  
  
Yes, your weapon. Snape said mockingly.  
  
Er- I... I've got top marks in all my classes... MacMillan said, puffing out his chest.  
  
Snape' mouth curled even more and he snorted.  
  
Top marks? You think top marks will get you the job? Books are nothing when you're in an emergency situation. You've got to be cut out for this job since the day you were born. What about you Boot?  
  
Terry Boot bit his lip and frowned. Well, I don't quite know sir.  
  
Don't quite know? How convenient. How far do you think _that _will get you in your path to becoming an Auror?  
  
Terry froze in his seat and looked very helpless. _Fucker_.  
  
You all are a disgrace to the wizarding world and I wouldn't be surprised if you failed your N.E.W.T. s this year. In fact, I doubt you will pass _this_ class. Snape added. Open your books to page one hundred and fifteen. Read the entire page twice before I give you the next instruction. Now start!  
  
There was a scurrying scuffle of books being pulled out of bags and pages being flipped and then the room was silent once more.  
  
Draco yawned before following suit and thumbed boredly through the thick potions book that he'd already finished reading years before. What was there in this class that he could possibly learn that he didn't know already? Nothing.  
  
When he came to page one hundred and fifteen, a spark of interest made him grin inwardly, for it was so incredibly Snape-ish to assign such a potion. The name of the potion was absent from the page, yet with one look at the complex list of ingredients, he knew what it was. Perhaps this class would be more fun then he thought.

* * *

Harry forced himself to take in the tiny words on the page and realized that he was reading the ingredients and procedure to making an immensely complicated potion. He groaned inwardly and tried to figure out what type of potion it was.  
  
Fifteen minutes later, he was able to decipher the ingredients and recognized the complex potion as that of Veritaserum'.  
  
_Veritaserum?_ He thought, shocked. _But that's- that's supposed to be illegal to brew without special authority!  
  
_Have you all finished or do your slow brains need more time? Snape hissed, interrupting the still room.  
  
Everyone set down their books and returned their attention to the front of the room.  
  
For those of you that read correctly, which I doubt any of you did, who can tell me what potion this is?  
  
Harry contemplated raising his hand as no one else seemed to know, and he ended up raising it a fraction of an inch in the air.  
  
Yes Mr. Malfoy?  
  
Harry had his mouth opened in preparation to answer but clamped his mouth shut when he heard the wrong name being addressed.  
  
It's Veritaserum sir. The strongest liquified formula of truth potion.  
  
Excellent, take twenty points. As for all of you that did not answer this question, minus twenty.  
  
_What?_ _I had hand raised you-_ Harry's insides boiled in anger. _Okay calm down, you don't want to look desperate in front of Malfoy. You wanna look cool and undisturbed. _He frowned. _Since when do I care a damn about how I act in his presence?  
  
_ Ernie raised his hand politely.  
  
What now, Macmillan?  
  
I thought that Veritaserum was an illegal potion to concoct?  
  
You're not as intelligent as you insolently brag are you? Of course it's illegal, without permission by the Ministry.  
  
So we have permission then? Terry spoke up uncertainly.  
  
What do you think?  
  
Er- yes?  
  
Another loss of twenty points. You should do more research about the Ministry before even thinking of becoming an Auror, Boot. If you have the impression that the Ministry will be handing out permission forms to all who ask for them, and to all those that simply reason their explanations for the use of the potion as for learning, then I believe you should go back to first year and restudy everything. Snape snarled.  
  
But then- started Susan. We won't be brewing it?  
  
It seemed that Snape's nerves were very close to snapping and he closed his eyes in pure irritation. Instead of replying, he flicked his wand viciously at the clean blackboard and white lines began scratching into it's surface as if an invisible hand was guiding it.  
  
Follow these directions and absolutely no mistakes. Is that clear? For if the potion looks even in the slightest, different from what it should be, you will drink it as a punishment.  
  
Harry carefully scanned the long script, squinting because he was so far away from the blackboard.  
  
_Step One.- what the hell is that word? Oh. Pair. Okay.... so that would be... Pair up with someone... in the room-'_  
  
He quickly turned his head back and felt extremely disappointed when he saw that Ernie was already conversing with Susan about who should do what task. _So that would leave... Terry and Michael- but obviously they're partnering up for this...  
  
_Potter! What do you think you're doing just sitting there? Do I need to personally levitate you to move or are you simply deciding to rebel against my directions? Suddenly, Snape's long face was inches away from his and his fowl breath was breathing onto Harry's nose as if Snape would like nothing more than to use the situation as a reason to kick Harry out of the class.  
  
No sir. Harry said, leaning as far back as he could in his chair to escape the stench of old grease.  
  
Then _move._  
  
I don't have anyone to pair up with. Harry explained lamely.  
  
So you are saying that Mr. Malfoy is not good enough to work with the Great Harry Potter?  
  
Harry's mouth fell open in protest.  
  
But I thought he- he glanced in Malfoy's direction. Malfoy had his back to him and was sitting with his legs crossed and even though Harry could not see his face, he was sure that there was a huge smirk on his pale lips at the sound of Snape growling at Harry. He loathed Snape for always making him seem like a complete fool in front everyone.  
  
Well then, what are you waiting for?  
  
Harry got up uneasily from his seat and inched over across the room to where Malfoy's desk was. He could feel Snape's eyes boring into his back and he tried to ignore the uncomfortableness. He wondered if he should insult Malfoy as a way to get his attention as the blonde seemed oblivious to Harry's arrival, or maybe he was simply not acknowledging Harry on purpose.  
  
Harry cleared his throat impatiently and didn't bother to keep the noise down as he drew up a chair for himself and sat down, dumping his thick potions book atop the table Malfoy was occupying.  
  
But still, Malfoy did not look at Harry. Currently, he was reading the next instruction on the blackboard and so Harry did the same.  
  
_Step Two. Gather needed ingredients.  
  
_Harry reread the long list of ingredients in the book, inwardly taken aback at the rare and some forbidden articles that they would be using. Half of them from their own stash of potion ingredients and the other half, they would have to get from Snape's student cupboard. He was about to propose that they should split the task of retrieving the large amount of lizard tails, fairylight mites, and whatnot but he hardly got the statement out of his mouth when Malfoy wordlessly stood up and walked smoothly over to the door of the closet sized cupboard.  
  
_Does the bastard expect me to go after him?_ Harry wondered disbelievingly. He snorted and settled into a more comfortable position on the chair.  
  
The clock ticked slowly. A minute. Two minutes passed and still, Malfoy did not emerge from the cupboard. He kept shooting furtive glances over his shoulder, expecting to see Malfoy but only seeing the empty doorway of the cupboard.  
  
_He's probably doing this on purpose._ Harry stood up irritably and decided that it'd be better to just get the ingredients for himself than sit there and get points docked off for being idle'.  
  
When he stuck his head into the cupboard, he noticed that it was pitch dark inside and he couldn't see a single thing. If Malfoy was trying to gather the needed ingredients in this, than there was no question that it would take him such a long time.  
  
Er- Malfoy? he asked, trying to hold back the mockery in his own voice. Who would be dumb enough not to think of light? This might help-  
  
a ball of light erupted from the tip of his extended wand and he blinked rapidly, eyes watering from the sudden brightness.  
  
But the light that invaded the small closet only brought emptiness to his vision. There were shelves and shelves of bottles and bins but Malfoy's head was no where to be seen.  
  
  
  
He took a careful step forward and turned his head slowly, thinking that maybe Malfoy was hiding in the corners, waiting to jump out and scare the living daylights out of him.  
  
What he was definitely not expecting to see when he lowered his wand a few inches was exactly what he _was_ seeing a moment later.  
  
Malfoy. Sprawled out on his back on the floor.

* * *

**NicktheEvil  
**Chapter two finished. Writing this and knowing what's going to happen is wickedly tempting. Hope you liked this chapter- I know it's a tad bit confusing but hey, what's a story without the mystery right? Right.  
So review and tell me what you think.  
  
X Nick


	3. Attack Thy Enemy

**Out of the Closet, Into Your Arms  
**Chapter Three

**Rating: **RR  
  
**Author:** NicktheEvil  
  
**Disclaimer:** I don't OWN. That is like, the most OBVIOUS thing in the world. -flips hair arrogantly over shoulder- that is... If I had long hair. Heh.

* * *

**Chapter Three  
**Attack Thy Enemy  
  
Harry, stifling a surprised yell, backed up abruptly into the shelves behind him and didn't even notice that there were now broken shards of glass and scattered toad legs littering the area around his feet.  
  
He stared at the motionless figure before him and then the closet became pitch black again when his wand slipped through his fingers and clattered noisily on the stone.  
  
"What is going on here?" a voice demanded loudly from his left. Harry jumped and saw with horror that in the lit doorway, stood his furious looking Potions professor and the rest of the class peering from behind him to try and see what the commotion was about.  
  
"Lumos." Snape's wandlight lit the room once more and there was a loud chorus of gasps. Snape stepped over the broken glass and over to Malfoy who was still as immobile as ever. Harry began to panic.  
  
"It wasn't me, professor! I swear! I just came in here because he was taking so damn long and then I found him-"  
  
"Silence, or I will give you detention Potter." Snape said without turning to look at Harry.  
  
"But-"  
  
Harry couldn't see clearly what Snape was doing because his back was to the rest of the students, but there was a scuffle of cloth and then Snape suddenly stood up.  
  
"Potter, take Mr. Malfoy to the infirmary."  
  
Harry thought he might have imagined it, but he could have sworn that there was fear in Snape's voice.  
  
Not wanting to be accused further, he nodded and pocketing his fallen wand, watched nervously as Snape levitated Malfoy's body a good three feet into the air.  
  
"Follow Potter."  
  
Avoiding all his fellow classmate's curious eyes, he quickly made his way through the rows of chairs and desks and only stopped to look over his shoulder to see if Malfoy's body was keeping up with him when they were well outside the classroom and in the cold dungeon corridor.  
  
He let out a shaky breath and continued to walk on.  
  
Why was Malfoy unconscious? Why? WHY?  
  
And why did Harry have to get all the blame for the prick?  
  
Did Snape believe that Harry really was responsible for the state of his favorite student? Most likely.  
  
Harry turned his head instinctively once more and saw that Malfoy was no longer moving forward. He was still floating, but it looked as if the levitation charm would snap at any second.  
  
"Crap!" Harry cursed loudly and he dived toward the limp body just as it was about to hit the ground.  
  
The dead weight of the boy nearly brought him down but he managed to stay on his feet with excruciating effort.  
  
_What the bloody hell is going on?_ Harry's mind cried out in confusion as he struggled to readjust his arms without dropping the body. _Spells aren't supposed to quit working at their own will!  
  
_Very slowly and carefully, he lay Malfoy back onto the floor and pulled out his wand from his back pocket with shaking fingers.  
  
"Wingardium Leviosa!" he muttered hurriedly. Nothing happened.  
  
"WingARdium LevIOsa!" he tried again. Still, nothing happened.  
  
_Oh crud. Now what?_  
  
Should he try the summoning spell? No, that wasn't necessarily a levitation charm. He tried to think of other spells that would help him take Malfoy to the Hospital Wing but none arose in his mind.  
  
_Should I leave him and get Madame Pomfrey? _He bit his lip. _No, Snape would murder me._  
  
Even though he knew it was completely pointless, he knelt down beside Malfoy and tentatively prodded him on the shoulder with his wand.  
  
"Psst. Malfoy." he whispered loudly. "Wake up will you?"  
  
As he expected, there was no reply. He tapped a little more sharply.  
  
"Please? I really don't feel like carrying you..." It was a futile attempt.  
  
For all the difference it made, he could have been talking to a log.  
  
Groaning inwardly and heaving a defeated sigh, Harry repocketed his wand once more and rolled up his sleeves for the exertion ahead.  
  
He hesitated before placing one hand into the gap between the back of Malfoy's bent knees and the floor, and the other on the small of his back.  
  
When he made to lift him, he found it considerably less difficult than before, and noted that Malfoy really was a lithe creature who practically weighed nadda. Some things about him, he thought, were really unusual to the plain eye.  
  
He would admit that a number of times before, he'd doubted that Malfoy was even _human_. What with the impossibly silky flaxen hair, and the almost unnatural glow of the pale skin, and the much too delicate features of the face... if the body he held didn't breath and was as cold as stone, then he would have thought it to be a porcelain doll.  
  
_Or maybe he's a Veela._ Harry considered, his eyes widening. _But if he was, then wouldn't everyone be going gaga over him by now? Wouldn't I???  
  
_But the unfortunate truth, which Harry knew, was that most of the school _was_ in fact obsessed with the evil-spirited Slytherin. The girls... well, they weren't even a matter to regard; it was frankly evident that most of the girl population had little wallet sized photos of Malfoy in their notebooks and in their diaries. The boys... Harry felt like gagging over how many of the males in the school had bulging eyes for him too.  
  
_Well, at least there are still **some** that haven't lost their sanity yet. _He thought gratefully to himself. _Ron, Seamus, Dean, Me.....  
  
_"AAAAAHHHHHHH!"  
  
Harry saw a flash of pale flesh shoot up at his face and then all of the sudden he was finding it very difficult to breath. Trying to keep his eyes in focus while feeling as if he was going to pass out any second, he tumbled to his knees with Malfoy held tightly in his arms.  
  
"What the FUCK do you think you're doing?"  
  
A familiar line that he'd heard earlier that day....  
  
Harry gasped and loosened his grip involuntarily.  
  
"M-Mal-foy!" By pure instinct, he summoned up his remaining strength and swung his arm out in front of him.  
  
There was a painful scream and something cracked loudly. The pressure on his throat immediately subsided and Harry collapsed onto all fours, hacking and heaving for much needed oxygen.  
  
The moment his heart rate slowed, he scrambled up and pressed his back into the stone wall, sending a deathly glare at Malfoy who was also struggling to stand up with one shaking hand clamped over his bloody nose.  
  
"What was that for?" Harry cried out in a quavering voice.  
  
Malfoy's head snapped up to meet Harry's gaze and he suddenly winced and let out a moan. The scarlet blood continued to dribble down his white face steadily. If Harry hadn't been about to start hyperventilating in shock, then he might have been enchanted by the transfixing contrast of the two colors.  
  
"What was I supposed to do?" Malfoy retorted defiantly. "I open my eyes and the first thing I see is your fucking face for god's sake!"  
  
Harry laughed harshly. "Oh so I get choked and nearly killed for helping you? How fair is that?"  
  
"Hey, well look at me! I have a god damn broken nose Potter! And you nicely ruined my best pair of robes!"  
  
"You are so full of yourself-" Harry said through gritted teeth. "I was so STUPID to agree to take you to the Hospital Wing!"  
  
Malfoy opened his mouth to reply again but this time, just before the words came out, he halted as if he'd been struck by lightning.  
  
"Fuck-" he murmured quietly. His eyes flickered quickly down to his left arm and then back at Harry in almost an incriminating way. "Did you-"  
  
"Did I what?" Harry said, crossing his arms in irritation. "Why were you unconscious in the Student Cupboard anyway? Are you sick or something?" he coughed. "Not that I care but-"  
  
"So you haven't-"  
  
"What?"  
  
Malfoy narrowed his eyes suspiciously and shook his head.  
  
"Never mind and just keep your fucking nose out of other people's business."  
  
"Don't you tell me what to do-" said Harry angrily. "Snape's blaming me, you know? Now I'm probably gonna get detention because of you!"  
  
"No you won't get detention, so just chill your knickers Potter." drawled Malfoy, a sudden calmness replacing the odd nervousness from a second before. "I'm going to stop by the Hospital Wing and I believe I can find it by myself perfectly fine."  
  
"The hell you can!" Harry fumed. "I wouldn't dream of escorting you after THAT."  
  
"Mr. Malfoy- there you are."  
  
A deep voice echoed through the empty corridor and both boys turned to find Professor McGonagall walking briskly toward them from the staircase. Snape was with her as well.  
  
_Snape?_ Harry wondered in amazement. _When the hell did HE get up the ground floor?  
  
_"Professor-" Harry stammered.  
  
"I see Mr. Malfoy has regained his consciousness." Professor McGonagall nodded rather grimly. "If you will follow me-" she motioned with her hand at Malfoy and then turned swiftly on her heel to re-ascend the stairs.  
  
Malfoy went after her quickly, and Harry noticed that he was looking uncertain again. What was going on?  
  
"Potter, you will return to class." Snape snapped his fingers in front of Harry's blank face and pointed a long finger at the Potions class door menacingly. "Now."  
  
"Professor-" he tried again, not wanting to give up that easily. "What is this about? Why is Malfoy-"  
  
"NOW."  
  
Harry closed his mouth and pursed his lips tightly. He stomped back to the classroom feeling incredibly cross about the whole situation. He didn't like being ignored, and he definitely didn't like being waved off as he were some annoying fly. He also felt as if he had a right to know, as he'd been the person to discover Malfoy and all.  
  
Snape followed him back to the classroom as well and they continued on with the lesson as if nothing had happened. Except, instead of actually brewing the illegal potion that day, Snape announced that they would leave until the next day when Malfoy was present to participate.  
  
_If it was me in the Hospital Wing, you sure wouldn't wait for me you greasy bastard._ Harry felt like saying outloud, but he stopped himself just in time.

* * *

When lunch came, Harry was more than happy to be able to toss his bookbag carelessly underneath the table and settle himself next to his best friends. Both Ron and Hermione seemed to be in much better moods than he was, and he couldn't help but feel slightly jealous. His own class after Potions had been Charms, and even though he normally enjoyed that class, spending it with four other students who he hardly knew and who were all unbearably boring was enough to make anyone fall into a deep stupor.  
  
He put on a smile despite his bitter morning and dove right into conversation with Ron.  
  
"So is the Ministry class any good?" he asked lightly, loading his plate with more food than he could possibly eat.  
  
"It's brilliant so far!" Ron said excitedly, grinning from ear to ear. "In DADA we got to practice all these wicked spells that only the licensed Ministry people get to do! Wish you could've seen me tackle Justin with the Tongue-Twisting hex, mate! He was begging me for mercy after thirty seconds!"  
  
"Was not!" Justin spurned from the table across the aisle, overhearing the Gryffindor's conversation (not that Ron was keeping his voice down in the first place). "You were the one that ended up surrendering after ten seconds of the Tickling curse!"  
  
Ron's face turned pink and he drew himself up pompously.  
  
"I lasted more than _ten seconds_ Finch-Fletchly, and you know that!"  
  
"Oh Ronald, you're honestly giving me a headache." Hermione muttered exasperatedly, prodding her temples with her fingers gingerly. "I'm sure you did wonderfully, but some of us were looking forward to some peace and quiet during lunch break."  
  
Ron frowned as if he was feeling insulted.  
  
"I'm not bluffing though, I DID last longer than ten bloody seconds."  
  
"Yes, we heard." she replied again, closing her eyes. She then turned to Harry and smiled. "So how was Potions?"  
  
"Must you ask?" Harry said weakly.  
  
"Gee, was it really that bad?" Ron asked, looking sympathetically surprised. "Who's in the class?"  
  
"Oh-" Harry shrugged. "There's Susan Bones, MacMillan, Boot, Corner...." he paused and took a breath. "And Malfoy."  
  
Ron had been nodding at each given name but when Harry mentioned the name _Malfoy_, Ron snorted in surprise and spat a mouthful of pumpkin juice into the air; Neville was left blinking and spluttering with thick orange glop dripping down his face.  
  
Ron took no notice of poor Neville and turned on Harry as if Harry was insane.  
  
"_Ferret_ _boy_?" he blurted out disbelievingly. "The evil asshole that was the son of You-Know-Who's most loyal supporter? You've gotta be kidding me!"  
  
Harry glanced at Hermione for help since he was feeling quite overwhelmed by Ron's incredible outburst but she was staring at him too, eyes wide and gaping. In fact, almost all the Gryffindors who had been within earshot had their head turned in Harry's direction dubiously. He realized that he was on his own. _  
  
_"Er- yeah." Harry said. "He was in the uh- Auror group."  
  
"Are you crazy?" Ron let out a laugh. "Has Malfoy gone crazy? What's he at?"  
  
"Dunno..." a frown crossed Harry's lips as he recalled the fishy events that had happened during Potions. He considered for a moment, telling Ron and Hermione about it, but something in him told him not to bother about it.  
  
Ron let out a low whistle. "Man, do I feel sorry for you Harry."  
  
"But why would Draco want to join an _Auror_ group out of all the other choices that he had?" Hermione was biting her lip and casting a discreet look over her shoulder at the Slytherin table across the Hall. "I mean, it doesn't make any sense."  
  
"Tell me about it." muttered Harry.  
  
"I bet you he's up to something, the bastard." Ron said, lowering his voice. "Something Dark..."  
  
"Or _maybe_ he's finally decided to right his wrongs." Hermione suggested, shooting Ron a disapproving look. "I know he's been a jerk in the past but we _should_ give him a chance."  
  
Ron snorted. "We're talking about Malfoy here aren't we? I'll eat the next peppermint humbug I see if he's doing anything of the sort."  
  
"You _like_ peppermint humbugs."  
  
"So?"  
  
"Oh, I've had enough of this."  
  
"Hey! 'Mione! Where are you going?" Ron called after Hermione who was making a move to get up from the table.  
  
"I need somewhere to study where there aren't any scatterheads bothering me with useless topics of conversation." she snapped.  
  
"What? Are you saying that I'm a 'scatterhead'?" exclaimed Ron.  
  
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Yes." she turned to Harry. "I'll see you later at dinner Harry."  
  
"Er-" Harry shifted his gaze from Hermione to Ron and back to Hermione.  
  
"Uh, Harry mate? Do you mind if I-" Ron jabbed his thumb at Hermione's retreating back.  
  
Harry cracked an amused smile. "No, go on Ron. I don't mind."  
  
"Right, well, don't let Malfoy get to you-"  
  
"I won't."  
  
Ron, obviously completely distracted about Hermione, just nodded reassuringly and hastily went after her with ears the color of ripe strawberries.  
  
After the two were gone, he sighed and returned to his lunch.  
  
It was a great thing that his two best friends seemed to be stuck on each other, however how much either tried to disguise their feelings. He'd had a hunch; no, more like _known_ that for the longest time, that Ron had been crushing on Hermione, and Hermione in her own way, had been reciprocating the feeling in return. They were just too stubborn to admit it first.  
  
It was just that, what with N.E.W.T.s coming up and the three being split up for the first time ever since their enrollment into Hogwarts, he felt as if he was all alone and friendless. There was no doubt that he wanted to become an Auror after graduation, but he hadn't been expecting to spend an entire school year with Malfoy. It was as if his worst nightmare had happened before his very nose. He didn't know how in the world he was going to make it through even a week of spending six hours a day, five days a week with him without either trying to murder the other.  
  
_Seamus and Dean, where are they?_ Harry wondered, changing the direction of his thoughts abruptly. Thinking about Malfoy didn't make him feel any better. Only angrier.  
  
With Ron and Hermione gone, and Seamus and Dean's usual seats unoccupied, the Gryffindor table seemed unnaturally vacant. At the other end of the long table, there were a heap of the younger years chatting loudly, but the seventh years end was lacking liveliness for sure.  
  
He halfheartedly pulled his schedule from his bag to see what class he was supposed to be in next.  
  
"Divination?" Harry groaned. "The day just seems to be getting better and better."

* * *

He didn't know why it was bothering him so much. But it was.  
  
What was he bothered about?  
  
Malfoy of course.  
  
He hadn't appeared in any of the two classes after lunch either and it was the same with dinner.  
  
_Is he **that**_**** _sick?  
  
_He'd certainly looked fine while being led away from the dungeon corridors by Professor McGonagall. He'd also had the strength enough to nearly strangle Harry to death- so why was he still in the Hospital Wing?  
  
Harry was currently sitting in his dorm, playing exploding snap with Ron and Neville. Dean and Seamus were mysteriously gone again.  
  
His mind kept drifting each time it was either Ron or Neville's turn, and they would have to call out Harry's name each time his own turn came around.  
  
"What's up with you Harry?" Ron demanded, scrunching his brows together. "You're really out of it."  
  
"Yeah." Neville chirped in, looking sincerely concerned.  
  
"Nothings up. I'm fine." Harry reached out an arm to place a card on top of the now towering stack. It quivered dangerously.  
  
"If you say so..." Ron frowned. "Your turn Nev."  
  
Neville gave a nervous gulp and got onto his feet to place his card on the tower.  
  
"It's gonna fall." Ron stated matter-of-factly.  
  
And he was right. With a yelp, Neville's shaking hand knocked the cards and the whole tower came fluttering down, emitting sparks and snaps everywhere and covering the three boys in black soot.  
  
"S-sorry!" Neville apologized pitifully. "I'm no good at these games!"  
  
"No worries, Neville. At least you lasted longer than last time. You're improving." smiled Harry, wiping his glasses clean.  
  
"Here-" Neville retrieved his wand. "Let me help-"  
  
Ron blanched. Neville's spells rarely did what they were supposed to do. "No! Uh-I mean, no. You don't have to. I'll do it."  
  
A slightly hurt look crossed Neville's face but he tried to hide it.  
  
"Oh. Okay."  
  
"Scourgify-" Ron flicked his wand quickly.  
  
Harry blinked at the now sparkling room.  
  
"Don't take this the wrong way Ron, but... when the hell did you learn to do that?"  
  
Ron blushed. "Oh- mum. She's always cleaning the house you know. I guess it sorta rubs off on me. Heh."  
  
"I'll put those away now." Harry picked up the neat stack of Exploding Snap cards and went over to his bed where his trunk lay open and who's contents were spilling over the sides haphazardly.  
  
He began stuffing his clothing back into the trunk when something he hadn't touched for a good couple of months, caught his eye.  
  
It was the Marauder's Map.  
  
A sudden curiosity bit at him and his fingers sorely itched to unleash the secret of the old flimsy sheet of parchment.  
  
He checked to see if Ron or Neville had noticed him with the map, but they were busy pulling out the chess board from underneath Ron's bed and weren't looking in Harry's direction.  
  
Harry whipped out his wand and in one breath, hissed out the incantation;  
  
"I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good."  
  
Ink vine-like lines began to sprout all over the blank page and he couldn't help but grin in recognition.  
  
Random dots were popping up amongst the lines and beside the dots, names.  
  
His eyes traveled rapidly from the point where the dot labeled 'Harry Potter' was, to the Gryffindor Common room, which was full of students, and then through the empty corridors until he read a dot labeled 'Mrs. Norris' and 'Filch'. Further down the page, there was 'Peeves' and 'Hermione Granger'.  
  
_Probably doing her night watch rounds._ Harry thought.  
  
Nothing out of the ordinary seemed to be happening, which was a slight disappointment to Harry as he'd gone through the trouble of revealing the Marauder's Map. He was about to refold it and stuff it back into the depths of his trunk when he read a dot that made his eyes flash with a bitter distrust and a temptation to meddle in matters that he shouldn't meddle in.  
  
_Well, well, well. What do we have here?  
  
_Harry smirked uncharacteristically to himself.  
  
_Draco Malfoy, in the Library during the Forbidden hours? Even Head Boy's aren't supposed to be in there at midnight. This might turn out interesting.  
  
_He crammed the map and his wand into his back pocket, craftily snuck his Invisibility Cloak into his sweatshirt and turned around.  
  
"You wanna play winner after this game, Harry?" Ron asked with a yawn, waving at the board set between himself and Neville.  
  
Harry shook his head and edged toward the door, trying to look apologetic and hoping he didn't arise suspicions.  
  
"You know what? I'm kind of hungry and I haven't dropped in to visit Dobby for a while. I think I'm going to go to the kitchens-"  
  
"Now?" Ron's eyes widened.  
  
Harry shrugged. "I'm hungry."  
  
"Right, just try not to get caught. Say hi to Dobby for me too. I don't feel like putting up with a mountain of House Elves right now..."  
  
Harry nodded and yanked open the door.  
  
"Oh and Harry?"  
  
"What?" Harry accidentally snapped.  
  
"What? I was just going to ask if you could bring me some Peppermint Humbugs..."  
  
Harry paused. "Oh. Uh- sure, why not."  
  
Ron grinned.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"Yeah, later."  
  
Harry shut the door behind him and took a deep breath before throwing the watery material over his body.  
  
**A/N**  
For all those that are wondering about the mysterious party- don't fret! Of course it is coming. And let me tell you, it's gonna be one heck of a hubub. Patience my friends. And thanks for all that reviewed! I'll be awaiting more! :)


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